"Yes; it seemed to be very much the same party."
Hubbard looked mortified; but he was soon busy answering inquiries as to the projected movements for the next day.
The following morning the whole party set out, in two skiffs, to pass the day on the lake. Under Charlie's guidance, they rowed about among the islands, now coasting the shores, now crossing from one point to another, wherever the views were finest; generally keeping near enough, as they moved leisurely along, for conversation between the two boats.
"How beautifully clear the water is!" exclaimed Elinor.
"The water in the Swiss lakes is limpid I suppose, Charlie, like most mountain streams?" observed Mr. Wyllys.
"It is clear, sir; and in the heart of the Alps it has a very peculiar colour—a blueish tinge—from the glaciers, like molten lapis lazuli; entirely different from the deep, ultra-marine blue of the Mediterranean."
"Have you any views of the Swiss lakes?" asked Elinor."
"Yes; I can show you several—and, as usual, there is a difference in their colouring: from Lugarn; a little bit of lapis lazuli, lying like a jewel, in the green pastures, half way up the Alps, just below the ice and snow, to the reedy lake of Morat, on the plains of Neufchatel, more like an agate," added Charlie, smiling.
"We shall hope to see them, when we pass through New York," said
Elinor, listening with interest.
"I will show them to you with great pleasure, faute de mieux,
Miss Elinor; but I hope you will one day see the originals."